


The Five Stages Of Grief

by jankkrat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jankkrat/pseuds/jankkrat
Summary: Based off a post I made on my tumblr blog, @thicchog. Roadhog goes through the five stages of grief when he realizes he likes Junkrat, and tries to deal with it as best as he can. Meanwhile, Junkrat is dealing with his own feelings of Roadhog.





	The Five Stages Of Grief

Most of Roadhog's problems' solutions was murder. A hook around a victim's neck, and he wouldn't have to worry about them anymore.

This problem was different.

The problem was that Roadhog was having very conflicting feelings about his employer, Junkrat. Some moments he wanted to strangle the little pest. He was loud, clumsy, and never bathed. He caused chaos wherever he went.  
But he had a charm to him that Roadhog couldn't shake.

 

Roadhog awoke with a start. He was soaking wet, and from what he could gather in his sleepy daze, the water was still coming down. He couldn't see his own hands in front of him. The fire they had made in the late evening had gone out. A lantern light appeared in front of him, Junkrat's angular face illuminated in the dim glow.

"Hey mate, uh, sorry I couldn't get you up sooner. You sleep like a log!"

Roadhog sat up, rubbing his neck. Rain poured down from the sky. He sighed. Camping in the open was never a good idea.

"We need to get to shelter."

"Right, mate. It's ruining my hair!" 

The comment accompanied a shrill laugh. Roadhog could sense that he was nervous though. Junkrat knew that the both of them were vulnerable to lightning.  
Roadhog stood up, picked up his knapsack full of rations and started to walk towards his bike. Junkrat followed close behind. 

He fished out the bike keys from his pocket. Junkrat hopped into the sidecar. He rotated the ignition. The bike started, and the headlights cast an eerie glow on the maroon dirt. A crack of lightning illuminated what seemed like the entire outback. Roadhog saw Junkrat wince out of the corner of his eye.  
He started to drive, reaching the road in a minute. Roadhog didn't know what he was looking for. An abandoned house, or even a forgotten semi. He hated to rely on luck to survive, but luck was the only thing that they had. 

Roadhog glanced back at Junkrat. He was shivering like a drowned rat, and his face looked stricken in the dim lantern glow. It would go out soon if it got any wetter.  
Roadhog felt a pang of guilt deep in his heart. And then, panic. Those feelings were back again. He wasn't supposed to feel this way about his boss. It was a professional relationship. They were only supposed to be together for the money. A friendship had already formed between them, which didn't bother Roadhog. He needed a friend. But he feared the concept of a lover.

Roadhog resumed his focus on the road. He would deny those feelings until his last breath.  
After about fifteen minutes, Roadhog started to grow worried. There hadn't been anything for the last few miles. He glanced back at Junkrat. The lantern had gone out, and Roadhog could see his silhouette quivering. Roadhog sighed, his nerves frayed. 

Something glinted up ahead. Roadhog perked up. A silver semi shipping crate lay deserted on the highway. It gleamed in Roadhog's headlights. It was the Coup de Ville of the outback wasteland. Roadhog slowed to a stop. 

"Shipping crate." he said. That was all Junkrat needed to hear.

They both exited the bike, but Roadhog kept the lights on so they could see. He grabbed his soaking knapsack and found the latch to open the door. He held his breath. Anything could lie behind the doors.

He threw open the doors, and to his amazement, there was nothing in it. Scavengers must've looted it months before. He motioned for Junkrat to get in. He clambered up into the entrance, and retreated inside. Roadhog went to the back of his bike and opened the storage compartment. He always kept a bit of firewood in the back for situations like this. He turned off the bike, and walked back to the crate. He tossed the wood in first, and then climbed in, shutting the doors behind him.

"Mate? I can't see a fucking thing ."

"Me neither." Roadhog replied. He ranked that comment as one of the stupidest things he's ever said. 

"Don't you have a lighter?"

"Yeah, but there's nothing to light!"

"Firewood. In front of me."

Roadhog heard the click of the lighter several times, and a few swear words, and a small flame appeared a few inches from his face. Junkrat's weather-beaten countenance appeared not far behind. He was on all fours, and realizing how ridiculous he looked, he giggled.

"Ah, shit, there ya are! Now where's that..."

Junkrat trailed off, seeing the firewood that lay near Roadhog's feet. He turned around and crawled over to the pile. The wood wasn't too damp, but he still had some trouble igniting it.

Roadhog saw him struggling, and reached into his knapsack. The cans were still dry. Roadhog had a spark of ingenuity and tore the label off one of the cans. He handed it to Junkrat, who grinned.

"I could always count on you mate!"

Junkrat could never see it, but Roadhog smiled under the mask.

 

With the fire started, Roadhog could finally calm down. Junkrat was sleeping, curled up in the shape of a comma. He was much easier to deal with while sleeping. These moments were the ones Roadhog loved the most. Peace and quiet.

No matter how hard Roadhog tried, he could not push the feelings out of his mind. Junkrat was loud, annoying, filthy, but somehow that's what drew Roadhog in. He thought back to the day that Junkrat asked (forced) him to be his bodyguard. Junkrat stood on a pile of smoldering tires, the sun to his back, a blazing silhouette. He had placed several mines in the ground, and threatened to detonate them if Roadhog didn't agree. He was clever, but he made rash decisions. Quick, but clumsy. And somehow, Roadhog's budding attraction stemmed from these traits. 

No. Roadhog thought. I don't like him. He repeated this to himself several times. Satisfied, he closed his eyes and tried to rest.


End file.
